


Only Once

by Skeren



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeren/pseuds/Skeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisame watched Itachi, and watched <i>over</i> Itachi, but none of that meant he would give away the secrets he found himself holding because of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Once

**Author's Note:**

> Written June 2012.

Hoshigaki Kisame was not a stupid man. Of all things he had been or ever would be called, this would never be true, even if he saw no need to argue the matter when he heard whispers to the contrary. After all, if they wanted to underestimate his intelligence, it would only be to their disadvantage, and possibly even death, given the opportunity. Sometimes he wondered if the belief was instinctive enough that people discounted their own observations, because at times that seemed to be the only explanation. 

There was a prime example of this in his partner. Not that of someone seeing him as stupid, no, but of people only seeing what they believed they should see.

To be truthful, he had also, on first introduction, made the same mistake. The boy was, after all, a very good actor. It had been enough to get him through the first steps and bring him to his partner, and had even lasted him into the first week of their knowing one another.

It did not, however, go farther. The boy was still a child, and while he himself wasn’t the same sort of brilliant, he had also had training in spotting patterns and gathering information. Just because he hadn’t had a chance to use that training for its original intent didn’t mean he’d forgotten _how,_ and someone like his partner almost screamed to be picked apart under these skills.

Especially with the first cracks in the icy demeanor.

During the first week, he’d warned the boy off, keeping track of his reactions, as subtle as they were, to the hostility he intentionally displayed. It was obvious that the boy had studied, knew of him, and knew to be careful. It was also clear, within days, that the boy had no return hostility to offer, and thus defaulted back to carefully expressionless passivity instead. 

That had been the first thing that had made him question. After all, everyone wanted to know why the great Uchiha Itachi had killed his family. It was one thing to go after comrades, to go after ninja awake and alert, or for a test. But family? Why your _family?_ Surely such a person would be angry, murderous, sharp.

Itachi was none of these. In fact, if he had to use any word for the boy in that first week he would have chosen empty. In shock. Numbed. 

These were not the reactions of someone who gloried in what they had done. Nor were they the reactions of someone who had done something for their own reasons and was satisfied with them. No, these were the reactions of someone reluctant, or someone who hadn’t really been prepared for what had come to pass. They would never be the reactions of someone with a desire to test themselves by way of murder. 

He could never believe that excuse, especially not from this child. Though, he was certain that the only reason he saw so deeply was the large amount of time he spent with him, even in the beginning, before the boy managed to knit himself back together enough that no one else could see inside to his secrets or hurt. Unfortunately for Itachi, this process had been too late and too slow for the boy to really avoid him becoming aware, even if he had held it to his chest until they were away from the others. Once they were out on their first lengthy mission together, instead of what had become the standard of puddle hops while they got used to each other, all his efforts likely seemed as though they had been in vain. In fact, the reveal had been wholly unintentional, and in a way, unavoidable. 

Until their first long term mission, they had only slept in the same place while outside. A hotel room was different, and this longer mission afforded them the chance at one. A hotel room meant that there was no need to be as on guard, because they weren’t as exposed. It meant that they would be asleep at the same time. It had also revealed the glaring fact that the boy had a severe case of night terrors and didn’t seem to realize it. Or, if he did, he didn’t realize it failed to fit with what he was attempting to convince everyone was true.

It had been late, when Itachi’s actions had woken him, still dead asleep himself at first and twisted tightly in his sheets as he made low noises of distress in his chest. In a way, he’d taken it as a compliment, that the boy had been willing to sleep so deeply in his presence. In another way, it had chilled him, because this boy, this _child,_ had been assigned to him, assigned to his care, and the boy was _damaged._

He didn’t mean the thought as a hypocrisy, as he knew that many shinobi bore the marks of missions either on the mind or body, often both. But this? 

He had strongly suspected that no one had known about this, and he hadn’t tried to wake the boy then, letting him come around on his own instead. He’d watched in the darkness as the boy jerked to a sitting position, alert and terrified in the wake of his dream. He’d watched as he had curled in on himself with the sort of shuddering breath that implied one was about to cry.

He hadn’t though. No, instead the boy had carefully, meticulously, started to place his facade back onto his face, trying to hide the grief and pain while he thought no one was looking.

Kisame had finally informed the boy to his state of alertness, then. “You do this a lot?”

The response had been predictably wary, eyes red with the Sharingan turning on him immediately to better see him in the dark. It was curious that they hadn’t been on before. “I do not always sleep through the night.”

“I wasn’t actually talking about that you know.” This time, the boy seemed to go entirely still, more cautious, brittle even. He was sure if he was prodded the wrong way, Itachi would break, and he didn’t particularly want _that._ Still, when he got no answer, he continued. “I meant that bit about hiding yourself. Not that it’s not smart and all, but you really think anyone is going to care if you’re sitting in the dark being stoic over something that’s obviously fucked you up?”

“I have no idea how you came to that conclusion.” The tone was careful, those crimson eyes staying fixed on him, waiting for a reason to be used... and yet the boy made no moves that could be treated as self defense. No, he was waiting, and had the air of someone who wasn’t going to start a fight.

“Yeah, I think you do. Did you really think I wasn’t gonna watch you kid? Especially after the things I said? That would have been pretty stupid of me.”

This time the silence was longer, but he let the boy mull instead of pressing any further. It would have been pretty counterproductive to any kind of working relationship, since he had no doubt in his mind that if the boy felt threatened enough he’d drop that waiting and try to rip his face off. His patience was even justified, as after several minutes the boy finally picked up the thread of conversation. “I was aware of your observations. I had not realized that the conclusions you’d reached had been so... emotional.”

“You mean the part where I said you were fucked up.”

“...Yes.”

Well, at least he’d gotten that far. “You have no reason to tell me about it, but I figure I’ll lay out what I see and you can tell me, or probably not tell me, how close I am.” The boy looked away from him, not giving him a yes or no, but that was likely as close as he was going to get to agreement. “Right. So, lets see. You didn’t kill your family for power.” The bluntness was enough to make the boy stiffen, but when he didn’t move, he took at as leave to continue. “In fact, I’d say not only did you not do it for power, but you didn’t _want_ to do it at all.” 

The tone of the boy’s voice was low, not threatening, but sharp. Most would mistake it for offense. He could read it for wariness. “And how did you reach that conclusion?”

“It wasn’t as hard as you seem to think it was kid. The only time someone can do a blank face as well as you have been is when they manage to make themselves feel nothing at all, or when they’re feeling way too much. Doing that outside of offing someone is fucked up kid and means something is _wrong._ So guess what? I can tell something is wrong with you. Being able to tell is the first step to figuring out what is, and you just had a really traumatizing thing happen. It’s not like I don’t know what rank you were kid, and it’s not like I don’t know what special ops like that are _for.”_

The brittleness grew, he could almost see it when it did, with the way the boy’s careful tension got several times worse as he spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Killer or not, even he knew that the kid would never last like this, and he finally sat up himself, turning in place to watch him. “Yeah, you do.”

“What do you _want?”_ The words were lower, harder to hear as the boy pressed his open hands against the covers. 

“I just want you to not worry about going to sleep kid. Nothing else. I’m not going to tell anyone. It’s not my business anyway.” The boy finally looked back to him, obviously surprised and just a bit confused. It was the most expression he’d ever seen Itachi willingly display. “When you were assigned to be my partner, it was strongly implied you were my priority. That means I’m not going to be sharing your secrets kid, because I just don’t work like that. You don’t have to, and probably even shouldn’t, trust me with your secrets. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell if you’re grieving over your family either. You’re still a human kid.”

“I’m a Shinobi, a missing-nin, I’m not a child and haven’t been for a long time.”

“Yeah kid, you are. You’re thirteen. Young. I don’t care what you’ve done.” He shook his head, leaning forward over his knees as he took his life in his hands, deliberately meeting those bloody red eyes. “You’re still a kid and you still need watching over, so I guess that’s my job now. Go back to sleep and stop practicing your blank face. If we’re not around people, you don’t need it, got it?”

Clearly stunned by the man’s sheer boldness, the teen visibly wavered, then seemed to droop, nodding once before tensely settling back amid his covers. “Good night Kisame-san.”

Satisfied, he had then let the conversation go, taking the act of trust extended as it was meant. “Good night Itachi-san.”

After that, it became far easier to read the boy, the blank face easing back to a more natural reticence of expression. There were a lot of people who seemed to think they were the same, but there was far more life in the boy’s natural mannerisms, and a wary tension between them seemed to have been broken. He hadn’t taken it for an invitation, because that would have been foolish, but slowly, he picked his way into the boy’s trust, just as the boy had picked his way into his respect.

Even if he was young, Itachi was powerful. He was brilliant, and he was, of all things, shy. He could articulate and act brilliantly, when he had the desire, but the boy went out of his way to not be noticed in villages, and it was clear that it wasn’t just to hide his identity. No, the teen, especially as he grew older, wished to avoid all attention at all, always taking that extra step or two to make sure that someone wouldn’t really look at him, or that he wouldn’t be the one someone tried to speak to on a mission.

It was, honestly, a bit hilarious. It was also a bit sad, because he had noticed that the approach hadn’t only applied to speaking to people, it had also applied to fighting them. The boy was brilliant in battle, their spars readily showed that, but familiarity led him to realize that the boy didn’t like fights. If he had to fight, he either quickly dropped someone into one of his genjutsus, or he killed them before they could attack twice. That was important. He had yet to see the teen start a fight of his own. No, Itachi had the strongly favored habit of simply reacting in dangerous situations and it led Kisame to some frightening conclusions.

Itachi was, simply put, not the kind who was ever meant to be a missing-nin. He was the sort who should be tucked up in some village somewhere training specialized classes for the higher ranks. Instead, he was in the Akatsuki, driving himself too far, and doing things he didn’t want to do.

That was why, years later, it wasn’t a surprise when he realized his partner was sick. It was also why, with all the numerous conversations in which his brother came up, and the number had increased dramatically after the youth heard the other Uchiha had ended up with Orochimaru, he hadn’t tried to get Itachi to do anything substantial about his health after the first try failed. 

Itachi had made it clear that he was pleased with his condition and wanted in no way to change it. 

Thus, once again, it had been left to Kisame to watch out for the boy’s welfare. 

And he managed it too, for years after the discovery even, taking care to keep the youth warm enough and well fed enough so that the sickness would get worse no faster than it had to. He’d made sure that it didn’t interfere with their missions or come to the attention of those in the Akatsuki who would have used it against his partner. It had been all he could do without driving the boy into taking back his trust.

Still, there was no fighting that stubbornness, and he knew, the day that the Uchiha boys met up, that he was saying goodbye.

Years of work and care, and he knew he was out of his depth, because the boy, man, now, had goals he’d refused to be swayed from.

In a way, it was alright though.

Kisame was a smart man, and he knew that sometimes, a battle simply could not be fought.

The last time he saw Itachi had unfortunately been one of those times.

That didn’t, however, mean that the boy wouldn’t be missed. 

And that was alright too.


End file.
